


let me tell u bout my best friends

by thepalebluedot



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 15:59:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19135357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepalebluedot/pseuds/thepalebluedot
Summary: Kent has good friends on the Aces okay





	let me tell u bout my best friends

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this two or three years ago and found it in my google drive and like it enough to publish it, so. Pretty sure I wrote it before we really knew who Jeff was, hence the lack of his nickname. Tag is an oc, his last name is Taggart, I can't remember much else about him at the moment other than he plays for the Aces, is an overall good dude, and is close with Kent. I've abandoned my boy. Anyways I had fun rereading it after all these years so here it is yeet yah

Jeff is a saint. 

When Kent stumbles into their room at 3 in the morning, holding a bottle of tequila that he bought in the middle of his uber ride back to the hotel, Jeff hardly even blinks. Maybe it should concern Kent that Jeff takes it as par for the course, but in the moment, he’s nothing but grateful.

Jeff squints into the light, and takes in the liquor store bag and Kent’s rumpled appearance and his red eyes, and says, “Hey, man.”

“Hi,” Kent croaks. He closes the door behind him, cutting off the light from the hallway. He rustles the bag against his leg so that the bottle clinks and says, “You want?”

“Not really,” Jeff says, and there’s a long pause where the only noise is Kent’s heartbeat pounding in his ears as he tries not to cry. He doesn’t really know what to do with himself now, because his plan mostly revolved around Jeff being a bro and saying yes so they could get tequila drunk and talk abstractly about Kent’s boy problems. 

Kent is still just standing there in the dark like a dumbass, and he starts sniffling.  

“Kent, hey. Shit night, I guess. It happens. But like, it’s too late for me to start drinking, so you wanna leave that in my duffel? And maybe take a shower? And tomorrow, after we land, I’ll come to yours and we can make mimosas and watch Goodwill Hunting and talk about our feelings like men,” he says, and it’s hard to tell in the dark, but Kent thinks he’s going for a grin.

Jeff is a saint. He most definitely does not deserve to be stuck with Kent as his road roomie. 

“Yeah, okay,” Kent manages, hating how hoarse his voice sounds. 

He sets the bottle down on the floor where he came in, and feels his way along the wall to the bathroom. 

When he comes out a half hour later, Jeff is lying face down in his pillow

He stays quiet until Kent is settled under the comforter, and then mumbles, “Get some sleep, man.”

Kent doesn’t cry himself to sleep, but it’s a close thing. 

. 

Jeff makes good on his word. 

Kent buzzes him in at half past eleven. He’s in the kitchen poking at the coffee machine when Jeff comes in and drops two plastic bags on the table with a thud. Kent raises his eyebrows. 

“What, you thought I was lying?” Jeff says. 

Kent lifts one shoulder, lets it fall. 

“I never joke about mimosas,” Jeff says seriously. 

. 

Kent is three mimosas deep into Goodwill Hunting and in love with young Matt Damon. 

“I just want closure, y’know?” he says out of the blue. 

“That sounds fair,” Jeff says. 

“It’s just—not closure, maybe. I—I know it’s, like, over, I get the deal, but. After, you know, he did some shitty things, but then I went and did a bunch of shitty things too, and now we’re stuck in a weird limbo where we’re either not speaking or we’re being assholes to each other. I miss him.” Some part of his mind is nagging him to shut the fuck up, but Jeff is just quietly listening and there’s no judgement on his face, and Kent thinks, fuck it. “I miss him. Not like—not the old times. I mean, I miss those, but that’s how life works. Can’t go back. It’s just been so fucking long.” 

“How long’s it been?”

Kent drags a hand over his face. “I mean, I saw him yesterday.” Jeff stays quiet, and Kent thinks about how he hasn’t had a normal conversation with Jack since before the draft.  “Years, I guess.” 

“Does he want to fix it? ‘Cause if he doesn’t, then it sucks, but the whole thing’s pointless.”

Kent thinks for a moment, then, “I think he does. We talked for a minute, the other night, before it all went to shit. I don’t think I would’ve gone if I thought he didn’t.” 

“Really?”

“I don’t know.”

.

Tag is adaptable, and Kent fucking loves him. 

Nothing fazes him, which is good, because by the time he shows up, Lilo and Stitch is playing with the volume cranked up to 60 and Kent is lying on his side under the coffee table with Kit. 

Tag takes this all in, says, “Guess I should catch up,” and starts unscrewing the cap of the rum they asked him to bring. Kent fucking loves him. 

“I fucking love you,” Kent says. 

“Get the mimosas,” Jeff slurs. Tag leaves the bottle on the coffee table and comes back with the pitcher and one of the aces plastic cups Kent keeps around for times like these when they’re actively making an effort not to break anything. 

Tag drinks half of his mimosa in one go and says, “The fuck happened here. And why’d you make mimosas without me.”

Jeff makes grabby hands for the pitcher. "We’re talking about our feelings ‘cause we’re men." 

"Fuck, which one of you has daddy issues.”

 Kent starts giggling. “I fucking wish I had daddy issues, those are so basic." 

"So, mommy issues?” Tag presses. “A drug problem? A drinking problem? Money issues? Girl problems? Gay panic?" Jeff snorts, and Kent’s laughter turns hysterical. "Oh my god you’re gay panicking,” Tag says, wide eyed, which sets off Jeff, and now Kent is _ wheezing _ .

Tag starts rushing through an apology. “I mean, it’s fine if you are gay panicking, or if you’re gay, I didn’t mean to joke about it, gay people aren’t a joke, and it’s a super serious thing in the league, and, like, everywhere, actually—”

Kent’s stomach hurts from laughing so hard. His cheek is pressed into the carpet, he’s having trouble breathing, and Kit ran for the hills as soon as Tag walked in, so it’s just him laughing like a lunatic under the coffee table while Tag is trying very earnestly to apologize.

“Not panicking,” Kent manages. Tag’s eyebrows furrow. “Haven’t panicked over it in years, buddy.” 

He watches Tag’s mouth fall open as realization dawns. Jeff is still giggling on the couch, but Kent keeps his eyes on Tag’s for a few moments of weighted silence. 

"So, boy problems,” Tag says, and Jeff starts giggling again. Kent turns his forehead into the ground. 

“Fuck, man,” Tag says. 

Kent makes a disgruntled noise into the floor. 

“I don’t know if I’ll be any help, but lay it on me.”   
  



End file.
